


The Bloody Tower

by MoonSilverSprite



Series: Growing Up Sucks [1]
Category: Time Warp Trio (Cartoon)
Genre: Conspiracy, Family, Family Issues, The Princes in the Tower - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSilverSprite/pseuds/MoonSilverSprite
Summary: When Joe, Fred and Freddi end up at the Tower of London in 1483, they are soon roped into an attempt to save the Princes in the Tower. While Joe and Fred have to impersonate the two royals to give them enough time to get away, they soon realize exactly what they have gotten into.





	The Bloody Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turchinorain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turchinorain/gifts), [The_Bookkeeper_96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bookkeeper_96/gifts), [cbraxs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbraxs/gifts).



> I thought that I'd write this, since it was nagging at the back of my mind for ages. The story of the Princes in the Tower has always fascinated me, ever since I was a small child.
> 
> I also wanted to write a bit about Fred's family. We know about Joe's family and we know that Sam's ancestor came from Russia, but aside from Fred's angry older brother, we don't know much about his family. Maybe the producers were going to explain in the unmade second season, but I don't know.
> 
> Let's just say his ancestors feature heavily in this story. And someone who isn't important to him yet, but will be very soon.

**6th February 2007**

“The family tree project is nearly complete,” Fred placed the scrapbook on his bedside table, “I just need to add a picture of Mike.”

Joe found this incredibly dull, so he simply lay against the side of the bed. Freddi, however, seemed fascinated, mainly due to information that she said had been lost over the years.

“Not exactly lost,” she pointed out, “but Grandpa Erik doesn’t like to go up into the attic any more. He says his knees are killing him.”

Fred felt a chill run down his spine. It was strange to think of his as-yet-not-conceived child as an old man. The boys preferred not to ask the girls about their families’ futures. Whenever they did, Samantha glared at them and Freddi would play with her hair and gabble. And if any of them tried asking Jodie, she would twist their arm and snarl.

But now Freddi was excited to look at the family tree. She leaned across on the duvet to look at the scrapbook, looking at copies of records from as far back as the 1870s. “That’s our side of the family from Norway,” he told his great-granddaughter, “emigrated here in the 1890s.”

Joe, having gotten bored, groaned and got up to take a chocolate biscuit from the plate on top of Fred’s chest of drawers. “What’s the matter, Joe?” Fred teased, “Find my family history too boring?”

“No.” Joe looked back over his shoulder at them.

“Well, sorry if I don’t have relatives who are bonkers or maniacs.” Fred rolled his eyes. Joe gripped the plate tightly in his hands, frowning. Fred gulped.

“Oh. Sorry, Joe.” Fred rubbed the back of his neck.

Just then, a brilliant green glow emitted from beneath the bed.

“Uh oh.” Freddi swallowed. Before either of the boys could say anything else, the three of them were hurtling through time.

**30th June 1483**

The three children landed in a heap on some soft grass. Which was better than some of the landings they had had, to be fair. When Fred, who had landed on top, pushed himself up and looked around, he saw that he was in a castle grounds.

“Hey, where do you think we are?” he asked.

Joe grumbled from underneath Freddi, “Well, it’s hot, so it’s probably summer.”

“I said where, Joe,” Fred folded his arms as Freddi stood up and dusted herself off, “and I could figure out that it was summer by myself.”

“Those guys are wearing medieval clothes,” Freddi pointed at two men in red and black robes leaving the large stone building in front of them, “so I’d say sometime in medieval times.”

“Hey! You!” One of the men in red and black robes stormed over. “Get back to work! There is no time for idle chatter!”

“Err, yes,” Fred answered quickly, “have either of you guys seen a book with a blue cover and silver writing on?”

The man raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “Servants have no time for books! And in any case, it may well be in the King’s – sorry, Prince’s – schoolroom.”

The man sighed. “I am sorry, children. I do not know if you have heard the news.”

“No, what news?” Freddi asked, feigning innocence.

The man spoke, with a heavy heart, “The Duke of Gloucester is now King of England. Edward has been deposed.”

“Wait,” Fred muttered to himself, “that must mean that this is the Tower of London.”

Joe piped up. “Why was he deposed?” He wanted as much information as possible before they would find the Book. It was always useful.

“Because the Duke of Gloucester was able to prove that Edward IV had been engaged to another woman before he married Elizabeth Woodville. That means, servants, that their marriage never legally took place. And with the marriage never having taken place, their children are illegitimate and therefore cannot take the throne.”

“Yeah,” Freddi explained to the boys, “Richard III is Edward IV’s brother. He would be next in line for the throne if Edward’s children are illegitimate.”

“I am glad to see that that is understood.” the man scoffed. “Girl, fetch some water. The Princes need to have their clothes washed.” He pointed at a wooden tub that lay on the ground, as if completely abandoned. He then walked away to another building across from them.

“Well that was rude.” Joe murmured.

But Freddi’s eyes were wide open. “Don’t you see what this means, guys?” she gasped, “The Princes in the Tower. The famous disappearance?”

The boys looked at her, before Fred realised what she was talking about. “Oh, yes. The two boys vanished without a trace in 1483, after they were declared illegitimate.”

“Which is right about now.” Joe’s voice trailed off. The boys suddenly felt queasy. It was already difficult meeting historical figures who would die young, but ones that were the same age as them had a whole other layer to it.

“We could probably find the Book a lot easier if we split up,” Freddi picked up the tub, “you guys have a look around. That man said it might be in the Princes’ schoolroom. That’s probably also in the White Tower.”

“White Tower?” Joe asked.

Freddi sighed. “This way.”

She walked into the building in front of them and ascended the stairs, after wishing them good luck.

Freddi found the Prince’s rooms soon enough. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Housekeeping!” she called out, though she wasn’t sure if people used this term in 1483.

“Enter!” A young voice called out.

When Freddi did so, she was amazed at how this room did not look like a prison in any way. The four-poster bed indicated that rather quickly. So did the tapestries hanging from the walls.

Two children sat in comfortable-looking cushioned chairs, playing a game of chess. Both had blonde hair, about as long as Freddi’s, and wore green tunics and doublets. One looked about ten years of age and the other around twelve. The older one seemed a little pale.

Freddi dared to step forward, asking, “I was sent up to take your clothing to be cleaned, Your Highnesses.”

“They are on the chair,” the younger Prince pointed to a nearby wooden chair.

Freddi walked over to pick them up, then wrinkled her nose when she smelt the sick. She turned around and asked the older boy, “Excusing me for saying so, Your Highness, but you don’t appear to be well.”

The older boy simply groaned in pain. “I am,” his voice was scratchy and squeaky due to illness and puberty, “my doctors have seen to me and they say that I am very ill. They do not seem to know what it is, however.”

Freddi nodded in sympathy, before she left the bedchamber.

As she walked downstairs to where she was told the laundry would be cleaned, she couldn’t help but wonder about their fate.

 

The boys were having worse luck. Joe went up to the schoolroom to find a stern-looking old man locking the door. Joe had told him that he was here to clean up, but the old man said that the room was clean and he had better come back tomorrow.

Joe then asked if a blue book with silver writing was inside the room, to which the old man had stared at Joe as if he were mad. So Joe had spent his time walking into every unlocked room in the White Tower, pretending to anyone that he found that he was a cleaner.

Fred had tried asking the servants cleaning up the hall and working in the kitchen, but none of them had time to talk to him.

The three of them met up again just after dusk, outside the White Tower. Freddi’s arms were soaked in water, Joe’s feet hurt from not sitting down and Fred’s shirt had ashes all over it.

“From the fireplace,” he told his friends as he brushed himself off, “they were rushing by when they served dinner.”

Joe slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall and groaning. “How are we going to find it?”

“And how do we find out what’s going to happen to the Princes?” Freddi asked.

“Freddi, we’re not here for that.” Fred tried to argue.

But Freddi moped, “You didn’t see them, Fred. I went past their bedchamber when I was searching and I heard the older Prince praying. About faith and the right decisions, or at least, that’s what it sounded like. I feel awful knowing that they probably won’t even reach adulthood!”

The boys glanced at each other. What Freddi said was right. But they didn’t know what was supposed to happen. They might change history by doing something.

“Come on, we’d better get some rest. Maybe we can think better when we’ve had a good night’s sleep.” Joe stretched, standing up. The other two nodded and started walking towards the kitchen area.

Then Fred’s eyes widened. “Look!” he hissed, pointing in the direction of the outer walls.

They all stared at a man on a horse talking hurriedly – and a little aggressively – to someone in the dim light from the kitchens, about fifty yards from them.

The three of them hid behind an empty cart as they strained their ears to listen.

A voice from the kitchens complained, “I do not see why I need to do this.”

The man on horseback snarled through gritted teeth. “Richard is _not_ the rightful ruler. You know that as well as I. There is no proof that the late king went through any marriage ceremony other than that with Elizabeth Woodville. Therefore, their marriage was valid and Edward V is the real king. Which means that we need help getting them out of here before they are considered a problem!”

He sighed. “Listen, we need helpers with this task. Get a couple of pageboys or spit boys or something. Just a couple of boys to fool the servants long enough to get the Princes out of the country.”

“I’ll do it!” Fred had absolutely no idea what possessed him to stand up, yell and wave his hand about like Sam in a lesson on the Revolutionary War. But he did so.

Joe slammed a hand against his face and groaned. Freddi tried to grab Fred as he ran out, but he was too fast.

“You?” the man asked as Fred ran up. As Fred came closer, he could see that this was the man who had met them when they arrived that afternoon.

“Yeah,” Fred answered eagerly, “my friends and I are happy to help.”

“Your friends?” the man asked as Joe and Freddi sheepishly came out from behind the cart. “Why were you listening to our private conversation? Oh, it does not matter. Yes, I believe you two boys will do just fine.”

Joe scowled at Fred, who looked in the other direction.

“And the girl?” the other man, a very scruffy cook, asked, “What about her?”

“Trust me, I won’t tell anyone.” Freddi responded.

The man gave a chuckle. “Very well. The girl – what is your name, girl?”

“Freddi. And these are Fred and Joe.”

“Freddi? Hmm. Unusual name for a girl. You two wouldn’t happen to be related, are you?” he pointed at Fred.

Freddi nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you –“ the man began, but Fred interrupted.

“We’re cousins.”

“I see,” the man examined the three of them carefully, “well, this will not take up too much time. I am the Princes’ doctor and I am the only one who can see Edward in his frail state. We need to make people think that the Princes are still here when we move them tomorrow. If you do this without any problems, I promise you that you will be rewarded.”

The three nodded in unison.

“Splendid!” he grinned, “Right, to an unused bedchamber, children.”

As they walked off back towards the White Tower, Freddi whispered to Fred, “Why did you interrupt me?”

Fred mumbled, annoyed, “Because I am sick of people thinking we’re brother and sister. It makes us sound inbred. Plus, we’re nothing like each other.”

 

**1st July 1983**

Freddi woke to the sunlight streaming in through the open window. As she got off the rugs on the floor, she thought that this was one of the better mornings she had had when travelling through time. Not all of them were like this; she remembered a freezing morning somewhere in Belgium, with Jodie squealing that a rat had gone inside her boot.

As she opened the door, she laughed at the sight of Joe and Fred wearing almost exactly the same clothes that she had seen the Princes wearing. The only difference was that these doublets and tunics were maroon and they wore rather awkward-looking hats.

“It’s not funny!” Fred grumbled, as the hat fell down over his eyes and he pulled it up. “I look ridiculous!”

As Freddi calmed down, there was a knock at the door. Freddi approached before she unlocked it. The cook stood there, looking fed up.

“I just pray that this goes as well as the Princes’ physician says it will,” he sighed, before he glanced at Joe and Fred, “you look absolutely nothing like them.”

“I told you.” Joe remarked to Fred.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Fred rolled his eyes. Then he looked at the cook. “How do the Princes wear these? I don’t like maroon. And why do they smell? Also, the – what is this called?”

“Codpiece.”

“They leave nothing to the imagination.”

The cook answered, “The smell is because we hang the clothes in the garderobe.”

“The toilet?” Freddi paled. The boys looked rather sick.

“That’s what they tell me, miss,” the cook said, “anyway, I had better get you to the Princes’ quarters. The boys will go tonight, when everyone’s asleep.”

When they got to the Princes’ bedchamber, the boys were still wearing their nightwear – white chemises. They looked confused and frightened and in Edward’s case, sickly.

“Your Highnesses,” the cook spoke loudly, “you are to be moved to another bedchamber before you leave tonight.”

“Why?” Edward asked, before he made a nasty coughing noise.

“Because, if anyone comes up here, having gotten wind of our plan, they will think that you are in the bed. Instead, it will be these two.” He gestured to Joe and Fred, who looked at the boys with a mixture of pity and interest.

Richard nodded at the three of them, trying his best to smile. “I cannot thank you enough for your kind gesture,” he told the three of them, “pray tell, what are your names?”

“Joe.”

“Fred.”

“Freddi.”

“Good names,” Richard mused, “and how old are the three of you?”

“Twelve,” Fred and Freddi replied, while Joe answered, “Eleven.”

“Then I believe it is only right that Fred shall play my brother and that Joe shall act as me,” Richard managed a wide smile. Freddi wondered how often he had done so since his father’s death.

“What exactly are we to do?” Joe asked, as Fred’s cap fell down again. “We don’t know how to act like you.”

“Although I was a king in Ancient Egypt,” Fred mumbled, “and they thought I was something when I was with Marco Polo.”

“It is simple,” Richard held his hands behind his back, not having heard Fred, “Since they do not expect us to appear in public very much, you only need to stay in here most of the day. However, there is the problem with lessons.”

“We can read,” Joe reassured him, “speaking of which, you haven’t seen a blue book with silver writing on the cover, have you?”

To their surprise, Edward nodded, weakly.

“It was in our schoolroom yesterday afternoon. I believe it may still be there.”

After the cook had helped the Princes out of the room, Joe ecstatically turned to his friends. “This means that we can get out of here!” he grinned.

“Well, I’ll go see if it’s there,” Freddi told them, “but I don’t want to leave until the Princes are safe.”

Fred groaned, but told her, “Just be careful.”

“Of course,” Freddi left the room, “Your Highness.”

When she had left, Joe sat down on the bed. “So all we need to do is play chess, marbles and card games for a couple of days?”

“I guess.” Fred murmured.

But then Joe glared at him. “You do realise that that was an incredibly stupid decision.”

“Yes! You’ve said that!” Fred was now getting flustered. “I don’t think we’ll be here long.”

“You do know what happened when they tore the stairs up in 1673?” Joe sat cross-legged on the bed and folded his arms.

“No. Remind me.” Fred squeaked. He didn’t like the sound of this.

“They discovered the skeletons of two young children beneath the stairs and buried them in Westminster Abbey. They said they were the bodies of the princes. If we don’t get out of here soon, that could be us, Fred.”

 

Freddi found the Book quickly. It was jammed at the end of a shelf. Unlike the other books, it did not have a gold or silver cover and was not chained to the shelf.

Smiling as she pulled it down, she opened it. Nothing happened. Oh well, she told herself, this is probably proof that we need to help the Princes.

The day passed reasonably quickly. The boys spent most of it inside the bedchamber, playing cards, I-Spy (Joe won eight times in a row, mainly because Fred kept using ‘b’ for bed) and ten games of chess (both won five times).

Sometimes travelling in time was exciting. Sometimes it was dangerous. Sometimes they came very close to death.

But this time, they were unbelievably bored.

It was so bad that at sunset, Joe and Fred decided to step outside into the grounds. “What are we supposed to be here for, anyway?” Fred had asked, pulling his cap up from where it had fallen over his eyes.

Once they had gone out into the courtyard, with Freddi walking behind them, the boys tried their best not to stare around at everything. They also tried not to slouch or scratch these stupid clothes, but they honestly didn’t think anybody could see them.

Fred thought he could see someone looking out from the kitchens, but he then turned his head in the other direction.

“Have we fooled them?” he asked. Joe glanced over at the small crowd looking out through the large main door. A tired-looking woman came forward when the three of them had walked closer.

She asked, “Forgive me, Your Highnesses, but we were told that Prince Edward was unwell.”

Fred’s cap fell down again. He didn’t bother lifting it up, just in case she knew what the Princes actually looked like close up.

Luckily, Freddi cleared her throat. “The Princes are having some fresh air. Their physician told me that Prince Edward may feel better if he goes for a walk.”

Fred faked a loud cough and Joe looked at the ground. The woman simply sighed and walked back to the kitchens.

“That was close,” Joe murmured as they headed back to the White Tower. But even as they approached, the hairs on the back of Fred’s neck stuck up.

In the slight darkness, he saw somebody sneak into the White Tower. As he wore a black cloak with a hood, the only one Fred could see him was when another person met them at the door, holding a candle.

“Look!” he nudged Freddi.

“What is it?” she whispered back.

“Do you think they’re here for the Princes?” he asked.

“Well, either way,” her heart beat in her mouth as she started to pace over, “we’d better see.”

As they ran across the grass to the White Tower, the three of them saw the same man heading out of the White Tower. Freddi shouted after him, but he didn’t look back. By the time they got close, he had dived into the shadows.

“I think he went into the chapel.” Fred panted, catching up with Freddi.

“No, I think he doubled back on us.” She replied.

Joe groaned, yanking his cap from his head and fanning himself. “Well, we have to head back anyway. Make sure the Princes are okay.”

Not strangled by an assassin, you mean, Freddi thought but didn’t say this aloud.

When they had gotten back, the only person anywhere near the White Tower was a young girl.

She was sweeping up the leaves in the courtyard with a broom, without even look towards the three of them. But when Joe let out a sneeze, causing Freddi to prod him, the girl looked around.

She was the same age as them, about twelve or thirteen years old, with her hair in a blonde plait. Dressed in a similar outfit to the female servants they had seen about the Tower, the only thing that stood out about her was her vivid green eyes, the same colour as the time mist.

“Sorry,” Fred hastily asked, “do you know the way to the bathroom?”

She blinked at them. For a moment, she looked up and down at them, as if rather confused. She especially seemed interested in Freddi’s purple shirt and trousers. The three of them wondered if she could see her clothing. Usually the Book would mask their clothing and sometimes appearance, so no-one would ask why strange foreign children were wondering about.

Then she spoke. “If thou means the bathhouse, tis not in this part of the Tower.”

“Okay, thanks!” Joe gabbled, rushing down to the White Tower. Fred and Freddi stared after him, before they looked at the girl, who quickly turned and carried on sweeping leaves.

“Erm, you haven’t seen anyone going into the White Tower, have you?” Fred asked her. “Anyone you don’t recognize?”

The girl clutched the broom tightly and looked at the two of them in fear and confusion.

“It’s important,” Freddi pleaded, “we can’t say why, but you need to trust us.”

“Nay,” the girl shook her head, “I have not seen anybody go in.”

Freddi ran after Joe, leaving Fred alone with the strange girl. “Listen,” he begged, “please don’t tell anyone we were here. We – we’re not supposed –”

“I know thou art not the Princes.” The girl replied matter-of-factly. Fred tensed, afraid. But she followed this up with, “I too am helping the Princes flee. There is no need to worry.”

“So – you won’t get the guards?” Fred asked, nervously.

She smirked a little. “Of course not.”

Then she held a stiff, blistered hand out, “Faith.”

“Pardon?”

“That is my name.”

Fred shook her hand. Her grip was as firm as steel, he noticed. Then he headed off after his friends.

When Fred had scampered up the stairs to the bedchamber where the Princes were staying, he found Joe and Freddi standing awkwardly inside. For a terrible moment, Fred wondered if the unknown figure had already killed the Princes, but then he saw the two of them in bed. Richard was sitting up, while Edward pulled the sheets about himself, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” Fred asked them.

Freddi looked at her great-grandfather glumly. “Fred, we shouted after the man. The guards caught him.”

“Isn’t that good?” Fred was puzzled. “Wasn’t he trying to kill the Princes?”

“No,” Edward weakly piped up from the bed, “He was trying to help my brother and I out of here.”

A chill ran down Fred’s spine. He sat down on a nearby chair, trying to comprehend what had happened.

“So they’re stuck.” He mumbled more to himself than anyone else, before he held his head in his hands. “We’ve doomed them.”

Freddi knelt down on the floor beside him and held her hand over his own. Richard spoke up from the bed. “Do not despair, Fred. You did your best.”

“But – the skeletons –“ Fred whispered to Freddi. She sadly nodded her head.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered back to him, “but it’s beginning to look that way. Anyway, I don’t know if it will be murder. Edward seems pretty sick.”

“But what about Richard?” Fred asked.

Richard got out of bed and straightened up. “My friends,” he addressed them, “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. But if my rescuer is now being tortured in the dungeons, then if another comes to help us then they will be caught, too.”

“And what then?” Joe asked, frantic.

Richard closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I do not know.”

The three children stayed with the two boys until they fell asleep, holding each other’s hands. The time-travellers thought that the Princes looked far too peaceful to wake up, so they left them as they walked out.

Before they did, Fred looked over at Prince Richard.

“What is it?” Joe asked.

“Well,” Fred tilted his head in confusion, “since we arrived, I thought that he looked familiar. As if I’d seen him before.”

“Fred, we need to go,” Freddi hissed from the door.

“Okay.” Fred replied, trying to control himself, to not turn back and look at the two boys marked for death.

The three of them walked out to go to the schoolroom, where Freddi was certain the Book would be.

“I hid it behind a cupboard,” she explained, “so I don’t think anyone would have seen it.”

Joe held his hands over his stomach as it grumbled. “Argh! I really need breakfast,” he moaned.

“Joe? How can you think about eating now?” Fred asked him, but when Joe screwed his eyes up and held tighter, Fred sighed.

“All right. I think the dining room’s this way. We could take something.”

As soon as they reached the dining room, which was almost empty due to most of the servants currently at the chapel, Joe grabbed a piece of toast from the table. Turning about, Fred called out when he spotted a familiar face. “Faith!” he hissed loudly, as he saw her wiping dirt from the dining table.

Then she looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked him.

“Yes!” he whispered loudly, pulling the cap up from where it yet again had fallen over his eyes, “It’s me. Remember? From last night?”

“I do not know you,” she spoke sternly, carrying on with cleaning the table, “please leave me alone.”

“Faith…” he started to argue, but she turned her head to snap at him, annoyed.

“My name is Meg!”

But that wasn’t what caused Fred to stop in his tracks. What surprised him was that her eyes were no longer lime green but brown.

Faith, or Meg, turned to leave the room, not even bothering to take the cloth she had been cleaning with.

“What was that?” he asked Joe as he came back over.

Joe shrugged, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “You definitely saw her last night?”

“Yeah,” Fred nodded, “it was the same girl.”

“She got a twin?” Joe tried.

“Don’t think so.” Fred replied. “Anyway, let’s get to the schoolroom.”

When they did reach the schoolroom, Joe opened the Book and pressed in the date they had left.

**6th February 2007**

The three children landed onto Fred’s carpet with a thump. The two boys were still wearing the doublets and tunics, but their ordinary clothes fell out of the Book onto the floor. Not that this surprised them; it was almost identical to the incident in Culloden.

“I’m just glad I’m back.” Joe groaned, getting up to walk over to Fred’s bed, lying down on his back.

Freddi looked down at her feet. “I just wish we knew what happened to the boys. They were only ten and thirteen.”

“Well, we’ll never know.” Joe mumbled, trying not to think of the Princes all alone in that cold, dark castle.

Freddi was about to use the Book to go back to 2107 when Fred noticed the scrapbook on his sideboard.

“Freddi,” he asked, “could you tell me if this was correct?”

Freddi turned and opened the scrapbook. When her eyes fixed on one of the pictures, her blood ran cold and her hands shook. Almost dropping the scrapbook, she gave a hoarse whisper.

“Fred? I think you should look at this.” Her trembling finger prodded the picture. Fred glanced over. It was of Lottie and a young boy outside of Fred’s house, dated 1912.

But then Fred saw the boy properly for the first time. A little older, perhaps, but he knew that face.

“Joe, we have to go back!” Fred suddenly shouted, pressing the Book into his friend’s hands. Joe sat up with a jolt.

“Why?” he asked, staring at Fred as if he had gone mad. Fred shoved the scrapbook in front of him, which must have activated the Book, since time mist now swirled around the three of them.

“I knew I’d seen Prince Richard’s face before! The younger of the Princes in the Tower was my great-grandfather!”

**21st August 1485**

The children landed at the top of the stairs.

It was dark, with the only light coming from the moon outside. Even so, Joe was staring at Fred with confusion.

“Wait a minute, Fred.” Joe put one arm on his hip and pointed at his friend with the other. “Next time, please explain before you hurtle us through time.”

“Okay, okay,” Fred waved his hands in front of him, “just hear me out. When mom gave me the pictures for my family tree, she said that she didn’t have my Great-Grandfather’s – her grandfather’s – Richard’s birth certificate. Apparently, it got lost back in Norway, or something like that. Also, my Great-Grandfather Richard just suddenly appeared in my family history at the age of twelve. He lived with an aunt somewhere in Brooklyn, his aunt Lottie. But when he got married in ’26, he didn’t have a birth certificate. He said it got lost.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.” Joe argued.

Fred pinched the top of his nose. “I know. But according to Mom and Grandma, Great-Granddad Richard didn’t speak any Norwegian. Yes, they found that strange, but it gets weirder. He used all sorts of words that haven’t been used in the English language for centuries and he could read and write Latin and Greek. My ‘Norwegian’ ancestor couldn’t speak Norwegian, but he could read Latin, at the age of twelve. I doubt that’s something a young immigrant would know, especially by the time he’d already come to America. And if you want more proof, Joe, my Mom and Grandma said that Great-Granddad Richard used the English spelling of his name when signing documents and everyone said that he didn’t seem like an immigrant from Scandinavia since he used what sounded to them like an upper-class English accent. And this was in the days before television and radio, where he could have picked up it from. I’m pretty sure the rest of my family are from Scandinavia, but I’m almost one-hundred percent certain, given the evidence that’s staring me right in the face, that Prince Richard is my ancestor.”

There was a short pause. Then Freddi looked at the Book, held open. The photograph of Fred’s great-grandfather was now part of the page. When she turned it to face Joe, he squinted.

“I guess it looks slightly like him,” he mumbled, “but how do we get him to Brooklyn?”

“I think our best option is to get him out of the Tower, away from anyone who might see us, then take him to Mabel’s Diner and then the Time Agency.” Freddi concluded.

“It’s going to terrify him,” Joe moaned.

“We don’t really have much of a choice.” Fred shrugged, as they walked in the direction of the Royal Bedchamber.

“Hello? Your Highness?” Fred rapped gently on the door to the bedchamber.

Then a small voice answered, “Come in.” The Prince sounded both afraid and sleepy. Fred wondered if they’d woken him up.

Fred pushed open the door, followed by Joe and Freddi. The bedchamber was just the same as it had been before. The only difference was that the younger prince was the only one in the bed.

Young Richard squinted in the light from the candle and held his arm by his eyes. Then his face brightened up, if only a little.

“Oh. Good evening. I thought you might be the scullery maid. She keeps coming up here at nights. It has been a long time since I saw you, my friends.”

Fred made his way over to the Prince, trying his best to comfort the boy. “Listen, we have to move quickly. If you don’t come with us now, who knows what might happen to you. You need to trust us. It’s going to be scary, but you’re going to be fine.”

The Prince raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, before he slowly stepped out of bed. “Is this to do with the man who wishes to have my uncle’s throne?”

“Yes, yes it is,” Freddi gabbled, “but if he knows you’re still alive, he’ll kill you. Trust me.”

“Most of the country already thinks my soul is in Heaven,” Richard sighed, “and with my brother gone, I have been miserable.”

Fred tried to comfort his great-grandfather by asking slowly, “What – did happen to Edward, Richard?”

Edward sighed and held his arms about himself.

“Edward died not too long after you left. He was very sick and passed on All Saints’ Day. Sometimes, when people come to see me – mostly the scullery maid and two youths who tend the horses, for my uncle still wished me to have playmates, even if they were peasants – they said that the King does not wish people to know Edward has died. They would suspect him of having ordered a murder.”

There was an eerie silence as the three time-travellers pondered this. They couldn’t even begin to imagine how lonely and terrified the young Prince must have been.

Then Joe coughed, everyone’s attention turning to him.

“Well, we can’t wait up. Your Highness, we have to take a boat out through Traitor’s Gate. Then we can get you to Brooklyn.”

“Where is that?” Richard asked, as he followed the three out of the room.

Fred put an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “A long way away from here, I can promise you that.”

When they started to reach the Gate, Freddi asked, “Richard? I’m sorry to have to ask, but I heard that your brother was buried under the Tower stairs.”

Richard sighed. “He was, Freddi. The stairs were torn up two days after he died. My uncle hired some workers from Ireland and paid them handsomely to stay quiet. I do not wish to look at those stairs. About a year ago, however, they were ripped up again.”

“Why?” Fred asked, although he thought that he might already know part of the answer.

“The younger brother of the scullery maid died of illness. The scullery maid and the two stable boys buried him with my brother. They did not tell me why.”

By now they had reached Traitor’s Gate. Joe jumped in and picked up the oars. Just then, Fred heard footsteps and turned around sharply.

A figure then walked into view.

“It’s you!” Fred hissed, as Freddi helped Richard into the boat.

Faith was standing by the dock, holding something behind her skirt. What interested Fred, though, was that her eyes were once again green. And they glanced about, as if afraid.

Then she looked behind Fred and noticed the Prince. Fred groaned when he remembered that his great-grandfather still had his nightwear on, which meant that she could see the white clothing.

“Listen, please, please don’t shout,” Fred reached out and held Faith’s wrist, “I need to do this. Trust me.”

“They buried Edward,” Faith said, blankly, “I saw them bury him beneath the stairs two years ago.” She seemed very nonchalant about the whole situation. Either she didn’t care or she was trying to shield her emotions.

Fred grimaced as he looked back towards the boat as Joe took the oars and Freddi helped the prince put her jumper on over his chemise. “Look, Faith, before I go, I need to ask one thing. When I met you the next morning, why did you say your name was Meg?”

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Fred was certain that Faith was blushing. “Oh,” she turned towards the open door, “it matters not. Please, go.”

Fred stepped into the boat as the four of them took off. All Fred could hear from the steps was Faith arguing with someone.

“Faith, what were you doing?”

“Joshua, it was nothing.”

“Faith, you know what we have to do. We have to go to Bosworth now.”

“Yes, Joshua.”

The other voice sounded as if it also came from a child. Fred wanted to go back and eavesdrop, but they had already left through Traitor’s Gate.

When the four of them reached the other side, Freddi opened the Book and started typing in Mabel’s Diner.

“What are you doing?” Richard raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry. Just hold tight.” Fred whispered.

When they had whizzed through time and landed in Mabel’s Diner, Richard looked about in absolute fright.

“It’s all right,” Freddi leaned across the table where they were sat and held his hand, “there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Where is this place?” Richard sounded more confused than afraid, but the others could tell that he was nervous.

“Richard,” Fred cleared his throat, “you’re a long way from London, trust me. No-one can get you here.”

“Am I dead?” Richard’s voice croaked when he asked, as if he were trying to stop himself from crying.

“No, no, you’re not,” Freddi tried to smile at him, “our friends can help explain it to you.”

**Time Agency**

“I honestly can’t believe it!” Daisy was in a flap when the three explained to her what had happened.

The three children were standing next to the outdoor pool, feeling exactly the same way that they would in the principal’s office. They all held their hands behind their backs and watched as the angry woman berated them.

“You should have asked me first, you stupid children! Do you realise that you could have changed history?”

“Yes, Daisy.” All three responded in unison.

She ran a hand down her face. “I’m going to take Richard for a test. Then I’ll know if he’s really your great-grandfather, Fred. Richard!”

Richard was staring about himself, his hand resting on the trunk of a nearby willow. He turned his head when his name was called.

“Richard, dear, if you just come with me, I can help decide where you are supposed to go.”

“I know.” He seemed incredibly passive about everything once the shock had worn off.

“You do?” Daisy was baffled.

“Yes,” Richard nodded, “I know I am no longer on Earth. This is the world of the fey. I have never seen a place like it.”

Daisy let out a small chuckle and looked down at the ground for a second, before she addressed him again. “Not quite, Richard. Or Your Highness, whichever you prefer. I’ll explain more once we sort out your bloodline.”

Richard did not question this. Instead he followed her through the door inside the tree.

About three quarters of an hour later, Daisy came out, sighing deeply.

“What did you find out?” Fred asked her.

Daisy wrung her hands as she made clear what she knew.

“He definitely is your great-grandfather, Fred. I managed to work that out, at least. The problem is, where should I send him?”

“My great-grandfather’s ‘aunt’ was supposedly called Lottie,” Fred trailed off, “but I don’t know how we’re going to find her. Or persuade her.”

At last, Daisy smiled. “That, I think I can find out. Freddi, do you remember Connie, from 1913?”

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes, unfortunately. But the two of us were friends when we were your age, studying here. With your uncle, Joe, as a matter of fact. Anyway, our other friend was named Lottie. Connie and Lottie went off to the nineteenth centuries when they were eighteen, while I stayed here. Connie was sent to Britain. Lottie, on the other hand, was sent to New York.”

“So,” Fred put his hand on his chin in thought, “you’re saying that a Time Agent is my – somehow supposedly related to me?”

“Not quite,” Daisy said, “But it’s interesting that you think that Richard should live with her. Because Lottie always seemed miserable in New York.”

“Why?” Fred asked. “The place is great. Not sure about a hundred years ago, but it seemed all right.”

“The problem with being a Time Agent is that you need to undergo – procedures.” Daisy told them. “The main rules of being a Time Agent are that you can’t take a life, but you also can’t make a life.”

“Make a life?” Joe frowned. Fred and Freddi seemed pretty confused as well.

“Lottie had to have an operation so that she could never have children. It’s a sacrifice every Time Agent needs to make. That’s why if we want to be Time Agents, we need to be absolutely certain. And over the last few years, when Lottie talks to me, she seems to regret being a Time Agent. She’s told me several times that she wants a child. If she doesn’t become a mother, I think she’s going to be miserable, probably even depressed.”

Fred then asked, slowly, “Does this mean that everyone gets a happy ending?”

“Looks that way.” Daisy muttered. “But never do anything as stupid as this again, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Daisy.” All three of them answered, before Daisy held her bracelet up and sent them home.

**6th February 2007**

After Fred had hung the fifteenth-century clothes up in the wardrobe, he looked at the scrapbook with Joe.

“How long does Richard live?” Joe was curious. “I mean, we gave him a new lease of life.”

Fred flipped through to the final photograph of Richard, taken when his mom was a little girl. “To 1989, I believe. He was eighty-eight. I guess it’s a combination of better medicine and a reasonably better diet.”

Fred shut the door as Joe left to go.

“One thing still confuses me,” he looked back over his shoulder as he was about to walk out, “why did that Faith girl say she was a different person?”

“I’m not sure,” Fred replied, “but I don’t think we’re going to know.”

**23rd August 1485**

“Come on, dopey.” Joshua teased as Faith stood outside the church.

“Are you sure this is where the king’s body is?” she raised an eyebrow.

Joshua scoffed and entered the building. Faith simply stood there mutely as she thought about the boy from the Tower of London.

 _I’ll see you again someday, Fred,_ she told herself, _somehow._


End file.
